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Spenser Bennett Sep 2016
Ain't no justice in money,
ain't no freedom in running,
painted streets with blood; stunning,
distracted populace with scumming,
hands up,
don't matter,
lead humming,
ain't no home left to be coming,
ain't no justice in money,
ain't no lives matter,
not to the people in charge of the chatter,
the talking head,
walking dead,
brain splattered,
All I hear is stifled laughter,

Oddities and odysseys,
life in the hottest seas,
that's what we gonna see,
not just you and me but our families, sisters, mothers, fathers,  sons, daughters,
cannot live if the sun blisters tomorrow and it runneth over.

I feel drunk but I know I'm sober,
no drinks for the son of man,
not til he older,
wiser,
speak a bit bolder,
kinder,
kind words,
to be issued to say that we miss you,
and I should kissed you; goodbye,
but now I got no time.

Always in new ties but old suits,
like trees barking for new roots,
and leaves darkened for Fall blues,
like hard news,
like black versus black versus white versus blues versus us versus you toos, ain't no mistaking the voiceless,
choiceless.

Most broke destroyed **** for misclaiming no justice,
we shouldn't hush this,
we need this to bust it,
or we end up busking,
do you understand what I'm busting?

Ain't no difference between us and kings,
so why we let them speak to us like just things,
a means to their ends but that means an end to us.

freedom don't ring,
ain't no freedom in running,
ain't no justice in money,
only justice in one thing,
and that's the spirit,
all consuming,
and trusting.

so let that spirit sing,
let it take you over,

Let the voice of the Lord and the father fill you until love runneth over.

Our mothers will be raised up,
praised up,
and through them we can face em,
find strength to save em,
and save us.
Emily Sep 28
The floors swallow me whole as the world keeps twisting my guts out,
That’s the only feeling of peace that I know of.

I can’t stop the constant spinning of my head, I rather just twist it off.

Twist twist twist the bolt fell off, no more spinning anymore.

Finally walking thru the blood filled streets, with a mind that stands still

I see the goblins running around,
scumming for trash and heads to give to the king.

The king that sits on the throne of heads,
just laughs as he crushes them underneath his fat filled ***.

I’m tired of the fantasy of peace, let me twist the head just back on.
I hope my head still is where I left it

— The End —